


The First Fissure

by sleapyGazelle



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Police, Canonical Character Death, Detective Keith, Gangs, Gen, M/M, POV Keith (Voltron), References to Drugs, Undercover Missions, implied Keith/Lance - Freeform, reporter lance, undercover cop Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-05 12:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12795003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleapyGazelle/pseuds/sleapyGazelle
Summary: Keith is an undercover cop hunting the mysterious leader of the Galra, a biker gang of drug traffickers. His mission gets more complicated when an over-eager reporter finds himself on the wrong side of a gangmember's fist.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Dreamworks, Netflix, the creators of Voltron, and associates. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Many thanks to [Bluphacelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluphacelia/pseuds/bluphacelia) for the prompt!

Keith sat poised on his bike, as he watched the Galra some distance away, discreetly taking pictures on his phone. He’d been staking out this biker gang for weeks now, doing research and building his cover. There were four local leaders, Keith was sure, all women. They went by Acxa, Zethrid, Ezor, and Narti—the strategist, the muscle, the face, and the lookout, respectively. Collectively, they were “The Generals.” Narti in particular had thrown Keith off at first; she was blind. In his surveillance, he'd come to realize her other senses were crazy heightened. But she never spoke. And she always had a cat draped across her shoulders…. Just all around pretty bizarre. But Keith still didn't know who the big boss was. Whoever it was never seemed to show themself anywhere Keith could find. Unmasking them was why Keith had decided he had to go undercover. 

After going over his backstory half a dozen times with his partner Shiro, Keith felt he was finally ready. This would be his last snooping session before he made his attempt to get in. 

But just as he was about to leave, a sleek black car drove up, and a man got out whom Keith had never seen before. He was tall and lean, silver white hair cascading down his back in elegant waves. Authority dripped from his posture. Keith could barely see his mouth move as he spoke.

Keith just took more pictures.

* * *

“It's definitely a big lead.” Shiro stood in front of their corkboard at the precinct. “We should step back and do some more planning, try to figure out exactly who this guy is.” 

The two of them were trying to figure out what to do now that a new figure had materialized. 

“This doesn't change much,” Keith insisted. “We stick with the same cover story and everything. I can find out more once I'm in.” 

Shiro stared at the gangleaders’ pictures for a moment longer before nodding. “Okay. Just be careful.” 

Keith started to walk away when, 

“And Keith? Don't risk your own life any more than you have to.” 

He threw what he hoped was a comforting smile over his shoulder, grateful for his partner’s support.

* * *

Keith revved up his bike and pulled up to the Galra where they’d just finished a weekly handoff. As expected, guns were drawn on him from four different directions the moment he materialized. 

“And what have we here?” chirped Ezor in that sickly sweet voice of hers, pink ponytail swishing behind her as she strutted up to scrutinize him. “An edgy little pretty boy?”

Keith kept his expression neutral despite his irritation. He was a grown-ass man who hadn't been called a “boy” in years. 

“What do you want?” Trust Zethrid to get right to it. 

“A job,” Keith answered. Keep it simple. 

The gang members laughed, but Keith let it roll right off him. 

“I have information you'll find useful.” He addressed Acxa, knowing that if he convinced her, the others would follow. 

“We don't need information,” Acxa bluffed coolly. 

Keith was impressed with her poker face. But his own was just as good. “A gang like this? Always needs information.” 

“What kind of info are you offering?” Ezor’s curiosity got the better of her. 

“I'm not _offering_ anything. I'll tell you what I know in exchange for a place at the table.”

“Yeah”—Zethrid cracked her neck—”except you're not really in a position to be making demands here, edgelord.” 

Keith nodded; he'd expected this. “Fine. I'll tell you the nature of my information and you can decide if it's worth your time.”

“Go on,” prompted Acxa. “And keep it short. We don't have all day.” 

The guns remained trained on him as he spoke, slipping into his rehearsed story. “I used to work for Marmora,” he began. As expected, he saw all four generals stiffen at the mention of the Galra’s rival gang. 

“Oh yeah?” countered Acxa. “Then why aren't you locked up like the rest of them?” 

Keith shrugged. “I was just a foot soldier: not important enough to the cops.” He smirked. “But I know enough about their operations.” That last part, at least, was true, but not because he'd been a gang member. It was because he and Shiro had been the ones to bring down Marmora. And Keith had spent many late night hours with the interview tapes. 

Tense moments of silence passed as the Generals considered Keith. He waited with bated breath. Everything hinged on this. Keith had done the research, presenting himself as the one man the Galra didn't currently have. But if they decided they still didn't want him, Keith had no other way of getting to the ringleader. Not to mention he'd probably be killed on the spot. 

Keith's face betrayed none of the thoughts circling in his mind. 

“Fine. You're in.” Three words from Acxa and the guns lowered. 

Three words, and equal parts relief and dread flooded Keith. This had been the easy part. 

“But if you turn out to be more trouble than you're worth…” Ezor sing-songed, trailing off, and Zethrid continued by grinding her fist into her palm. Narti’s cat hissed menacingly from atop its owner’s shoulder, finishing the threat. 

Keith had no doubt any one of them could crush his throat with their bare hands. Good. Where was the fun without a bit of danger?


	2. Chapter 2

Days turned into weeks. Keith started doing more and more jobs for the Galra. He tried not to tally the drugs he was putting into kids’ hands against the drugs he'd gotten _off_ the streets in his years on the force. 

Weeks turned into months. Keith hadn't seen “the Prince” again. It was a title he'd heard a few times and had immediately associated it with the mysterious man he'd spotted during his recon. 

Keith passed along what information he could to Shiro. Some arrests were made, but the bulk of the mission remained incomplete. He decided one day that he was tired of waiting. 

“I wanna meet the Prince,” he announced as he sat polishing his bike with the others in the rundown warehouse that served as the gang’s base. 

“Do you have a death wish?” Acxa mused. 

“Don't we all,” muttered Keith honestly. 

“Ain't that the truth,” Zethrid agreed as she passed through the warehouse on her way to snuff out some latest snitch. 

Acxa snapped her rag as she moved on to wiping another corner of her bike. “Lotor doesn't meet with newbies, Newbie,” she informed him. “He has better things to do.” 

And Keith may not have secured a meeting—he hadn't really been expecting that anyway—but he now had a name. _Lotor._ And a name was more valuable than a shitty, presumptuous title. “The Prince?” Seriously?

He polished on in silence, trying to rub the smell of coke off his most prized possession.

* * *

When Keith was in high school, he’d discovered crime thriller novels at the local library. He'd never had the notion of a favorite genre before, but once he got into the gritty world of fighting crime, he couldn't read anything else. And he couldn't imagine any other life for himself. The somber detectives who righted the wrongs of the world, one criminal at a time, became his heros. 

When he enlisted, he envisioned himself rising through the ranks, doing good and finding fulfillment in his own life. And true to his talents, he soon made Detective. But he was assigned to Narcotics, and while he'd done good work in his time there, he'd seen more suffering and desperation than could fix in a lifetime. He was starting to feel a lot less like the heroes he'd idolized as a kid and a lot more like he just couldn't do enough.

* * *

Keith was arriving for another day at work when an unfamiliar presence caught his eye. A car pulled up by the warehouse; a guy clutching a notebook got out and approached the generals who were by the door. Keith's senses went on high alert because this guy with his cocky smile and short crop of brown hair was no gangster. He wondered what a civilian could be doing here. 

The guy went up to Acxa, and his expression turned flirty as he leaned his head down to say something to her. 

It was like watching disaster porn, when you know something bad is going to happen but you can't look away. So Keith watched as Acxa punched the guy in the face with her fist full of rings. Even from his distance, Keith could see the bruise forming on the guy’s cheekbone. He put up his hands in surrender, reporter’s notebook still clasped firmly. Wait, was that guy a reporter? Acxa must not have liked whatever he said next, because she stormed forward, twisted one arm behind his back, and jabbed two fingers at his throat. The notebook fell to the ground as the guy crumpled, knocked out cold by Acxa’s precise move. She caught him as if he weighed nothing, then barked out an order. The other gang members took the guy from her arms, bound his wrists, and dragged him inside. 

Keith cursed aloud, going over to pick up the dropped notebook.

_“Property of Lance A., NY Sentinel”_

This mission just got a lot more complicated.

* * *

Keith cleanly caught the packets of coke Ezor threw his way, and packed them under his bike seat. After a particularly extra fist fight he'd gotten himself into, he'd been invited to a high profile handoff. He was to accompany Zethrid, who was already mounted on her bike, seat previously stocked full. Keith dropped his seat back down over the load and was about to get on when Acxa came up to him. She fisted a hand in his shirt and shoved him against the wall. 

“You better not fuck up out there, Newbie. This is big.”

Keith shoved her off but nodded. It _was_ important—he had managed to get word to Shiro and was expecting arrests to go down. He straightened his jacket and made to get on his bike for the second time that evening when the nearby door flew open. 

_Now what?_ Keith rolled his eyes, anxious to get going. He turned around to see the source of the disturbance, and his every instinct started screaming danger. He was looking at…

“Lotor!” Acxa exclaimed. 

The Prince. 

Lotor acknowledged Acxa with a barely perceptible nod as he stalked into the center of the space and rounded on his gang. “We have a mole,” he announced in a voice smooth as silk. 

Keith had barely a moment to brace himself for what was sure to be an accusation aimed his way before Lotor was drawing his gun. Keith's hand reflexively went toward the back of his waistband where he kept his own small pistol. But before he could even slip his fingers past fabric, Lotor took two steady shots. Keith looked up just in time to see Narti crumble to the floor, her cat screaming as it was dislodged from her shoulder. 

Ezor made a garbled sound, rushing over to her partner’s now lifeless form. Everyone was too stunned to speak. Everyone, except Lotor. Tone enviously casual, he turned to Acxa. 

“Clean this up before Z gets wind of it,” he ordered. He tucked his gun back into his pocket and turned his attention toward Keith and Zethrid. “Where were you guys headed?”

No introductions, no greetings. Right down to business. Keith rolled with it. 

“Handoff.”

“Narti scouted it?”

Keith nodded. 

“Don’t show.” And with that, he left the way he had come. 

Acxa stood rock still; she still hadn't acted on his order. 

And Keith…. Keith was reeling. Narti? Blind, silent, she was the last one anyone would suspect. But somehow Lotor didn't trust her. Keith glanced over to where her body lay still. As unfortunate as it was for her, Keith's cover remained intact. And now that this scare was over as soon as it had begun, he considered the larger implications. He'd just officially _met_ the elusive Prince. Plus, he was pretty sure Ezor had seen him reach for his belt when Lotor had mentioned a traitor. But even more importantly, he'd just found out something major: Lotor apparently wasn't the ringleader. He was up there but there was someone even higher up who outranked the Prince. _Z._

Keith squeezed his eyes shut. It was the only outward sign of his whirlwind of thoughts. _Who the fuck was Z?_

* * *

Still being the newest recruit, Keith was assigned the infuriating task of guarding the door to the prisoner’s room. Infuriating because Keith wanted to pace, but that would be suspicious so he had to make do with stimming. There was a civilian locked up on the other side of the wall. Keith had no idea what plans the Generals had for the guy, but he didn't think any of them involved him walking out of there alive. His short dagger twirling lazily between his fingers, Keith mused whether the gang was waiting for Lotor to decide the reporter’s fate. 

_What would Shiro say?_ he found himself asking, seeking comfort in the question. 

‘We can’t risk a civilian’s life, Keith. No matter how big the mission.’

“Thanks, Shiro; I already knew that,” he muttered to himself, resolve stronger nonetheless. He now had two missions—get the reporter to safety and get a hold on this Prince. 

With a sigh, he pocketed the knife; his fingers brushed paper as he did so. Remembering having picked up the reporter’s notebook, he pulled it out and flipped it open. There were notes and random musings, with frankly awful doodles in the margins. The handwriting was pleasant and legible, some words randomly in all caps. Keith turned pages randomly until an underlined title caught his eye,

‘Largest takedown in years by otherwise lazy narcs.’ 

Amused by the backhanded compliment, which was based in truth if he was being honest, he read on. 

‘As the Sentinel’s readers are no doubt aware, Marmora was a notorious gang of drug traffickers operating in the seedy underbelly of New York City’

‘The seedy underbelly of’ was crossed out and a note was scribbled in the margin in a scrawl, ‘what is this, a marvel show??’

Keith chuckled to himself as he flipped ahead again, alternately rolling his eyes and smirking at the sass and wit that revealed itself in the reporter's remarks.


	3. Chapter 3

Mind still in about five different directions, Keith entered the reporter’s room, tray of food in hand. Keith set it down in front of him and settled into the nearby chair, too distracted with his own thoughts to pay the guy any attention. In the few days he’d been here, the reporter had been Keith’s responsibility to feed and babysit, a job he did most grudgingly. On a good day, he might have admitted to himself that the annoying questions were a good distraction from his frustration with the mission’s slowness. But with Narti’s death still fresh on his mind, and the fact that he hadn’t yet had a chance to sneak a text to Shiro to explain why the bust didn’t happen, it wasn’t a good day. That was partly why Keith didn’t notice the reporter rush at him until he was already being knocked off his chair. Partly, because the other part was that this guy was just really fucking fast. 

They struggled on the floor, Keith’s breathing labored as he was pinned.

“What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?” Keith wheezed as he looked up into ocean-blue eyes, surprised by the strength in the lanky body holding him down. 

“Escape, obviously.”

Using his legs and core muscles, Keith shook the guy off him, pinning an arm behind his back, wondering how he could convey that he was looking out for him without risking his cover. “Not today,” he said, trying to subdue the struggling mass of limbs beneath him. 

Understandably, the message didn’t translate very well. If anything, the guy just tried harder to break free.

“Hey,” Keith tried again, tightening his grip. “Hey! Just shut up and trust me.”

That seemed to work, at least somewhat. The guy stopped struggling in favor of scoffing, face still pressed into the floor. “Trust you? Why would I trust someone who’s got me locked up?”

It was a fair question, except, “You got yourself into this mess with the way you talked to Acxa. I was honestly surprised she didn’t rough you up more, or snuff you right there.”

“All I wanted was to talk to someone from the Galra and get their take on the Marmora takedown. How was I supposed to know she’d react like that? I see a pretty person, and I can’t even show my appreciation? You’re not bad-looking yourself, you know. Except for your hair. Do you actually have a mullet?”

“Are you serious right now?” Keith didn’t know whether to roll his eyes or knock this guy out cold.

“Are you going to let me up?” He punctuated with a jerk of his arm. 

Keith further tightened the hold on his wrist. “Are you going to try and escape again?”

A beat. “No.”

Keith let go, allowing the reporter to sit up. “Good. Because you wouldn’t make it past the hall without getting shot. You’re safe here, for now.”

The man nodded, going back to the chair and picking up the spoon resignedly to finally eat. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he spoke through a mouth full of food. “Seriously though, is the mullet somehow ironic? Because that’s the only thing I can think of that would make it acceptable. But even then….”

Keith refused to dignify that with a response, but he felt a laugh bubbling out that caught him off guard. Keith looked up to see his grin being returned and was struck with a sudden determination never to let that pure smile be extinguished. 

It wasn’t until Keith was carrying the empty tray away that he realized some of the tension in his shoulders had melted away. 

Lance, he reminded himself; the reporter’s name was Lance.

* * *

Notifications were disabled on Keith’s burner phone, messages waiting for him for whenever it was safe to check, when he was sure no one was looking over his shoulder. A solitary text displayed when—finally alone in the comfort of his own bed—he opened the SMS app. 

_what’s up?_

‘Unknown number.’ Keith recognized it instantly, recognized the message for what it meant: ‘any news?’

 **not much** , he shot back. A moment passed in which his phone screen dimmed out before he tapped in the message field again. He knew he should leave the conversation at that; any communication with Shiro was dangerous. But he was starting to feel stuck. And so he shot off a risky **nothing new**.

 _Hang in there_ , came the almost instant reply. 

**patience yields focus  
yeah i know**

_Patience also yields results  
These things take time, you know that_

He did. But that didn’t make having to wait any easier. 

**hey  
thanks**

_Anytime_

* * *

Two hours later, Keith was still wide awake, fingers itching to _do_ something. With a sigh of resignation, he sat up to mull over his options. He could sneak into the warehouse now in the dead of night and snoop around the places he didn’t have access to during the day.

His bangs tickled his cheek with every blink as he sat there and thought. If he got caught, his cover would be blown. But, he decided, getting out of bed, what good was a cover if it yielded no information?

* * *

And okay, maybe he wasn’t being entirely fair to the situation. His mission _had_ yielded information; so far it had not only brought him face to face with Lotor, but had also clued him in to the existence of the elusive Z, the Big Fish, even if Keith knew nothing about him yet. His mind didn’t pause even for a second as he cruised down the empty stretch of road on his bike. 

He parked a reasonable distance away from the warehouse and crept in, familiar enough with the layout by now to know which entrance was hidden from view of the members who lived in the building across the street.

The heavy metal of the shutter dug into his palm as he eased the back entrance open just enough to slip inside. The wide open space was eerie in the dark. He made his way to the corridor at the end of the open floor, skirting past the rooms he’d previously searched to no effect. Now that Lotor was showing himself around there more, he’d basically set up an office. That was where Keith was headed. He’d just neared the locked door when muffled voices wafted out to him.

 _“He’s obsessed!”_ That was Lotor. Keith slipped back into the shadows. 

_“Are you so sure his search is pointless?”_ Acxa.

A weary sigh. _“She’s dead. Has been. Z’s obsession with finding her is bad for the Galra. It can make us vulnerable to enemies who’ll want to take advantage.”_

 _“Of course, you’ve told him how you feel?”_ said Acxa. Her voice was oddly distant, devoid of any emotion. 

_“You know he doesn’t listen to reason. Not where Honerva’s concerned.”_

_“Any reason you’re particularly concerned now?_

_“I think his obsession is growing lately; it’s...consuming him.”_

_“You want to intervene.”_

_“But I don’t know how.”_

_“Yes you do.”_

Lotor chuckled. _“You know me too well; better watch your back. Well, when a king is no longer fit to rule, the prince takes over.”_

 _“It’s how things have always been.”_

Keith heard rustling, and pressed himself tight against the nook he was hiding in, just out of sight from the main hallway. 

When the prince and his general walked out in the other direction, Keith let out his breath ever-so-slowly. Snippets of the conversation still floated back to him before Lotor and Acxa rounded the corner, 

_“Plus we have that reporter at our disposal now,”_ Lotor said. _“I know you've been wanting to do away with him, but he’ll come in handy. Nothing better to take down a gang leader than a compromising newspaper article,”_ he mused. 

Keith waited until there was silence before slipping back out the way he had come, without ever searching Lotor’s office.

* * *

Keith made completely sure he wasn't being followed and then pulled up to Shiro’s apartment building. 

**I'm outside** , he texted. 

Shiro was a light sleeper, and it was only a couple of minutes before Keith’s phone lit up with the reply,

_“Come up”_

“So you know how I've been trying to find out more about this Z?” he began once he was upstairs. Shiro had made coffee and the two were seated at the dining room table. 

Shiro was in his night clothes, a loose-fitting white tank and black basketball shorts. And if he noticed how out of place Keith was against him in black jeans, black T-shirt, black leather jacket, and black fingerless gloves, he didn't comment on it. He merely encouraged Keith to continue with a nod, pushing a welcoming mug of coffee across the table. 

“I think I know how to lure him out. Have you ever heard about the cold case of a kidnapped woman named Honerva?”

* * *

The following week, was more eventful than the entirety of Keith's time with the Galra so far put together. 

Shiro had managed to have an envelope sent to the warehouse, unmarked except for a “To Z” written on the front. 

Keith was there when it arrived. He fully expected Lotor to just read it himself and throw it out. 

One of those predictions turned out to be right. Lotor did indeed open and read the letter that consisted only of ‘Do you want to know about Honerva”’ in block lettering, just like that, without any punctuation. But he didn't discard it to protect the gang from Z’s supposed obsession. Instead he smiled slyly, and said, to no one in particular, 

“I must summon our leader.”

Thanks in part to Lotor’s ambitions to stage a coup, Operation Black Lion was a go.

* * *

Keith's foray into old police files after his fateful accidental eavesdropping that night had revealed the backstory he'd been looking for this whole time.

Honerva was a woman who'd disappeared ten years ago—before Keith had even joined the force. The case had been investigated as a kidnapping, but dropped when there had been no leads. The victim had had only one living family member—a husband named Zarkon, who hadn't been very cooperative with police but had been cleared as a suspect since he’d had an alibi.

Keith was willing to bet his life that Zarkon was Z and was still trying to find his wife. He was willing to, and so he did. Operation Black Lion would either unmask Z, or put an end to this whole mission.


	4. Chapter 4

Calling it Operation Black Lion was Shiro’s idea. He’d said it had a nice ring to it. 

The cryptic envelope had seemingly done its job, interesting Z enough to get him to come out of hiding. Shiro had followed up the first letter with another, just as cryptic, but this time with an appointment. ‘Sunday at nine. Galra warehouse. I talk to Z only.’ That was it. Unsigned like the previous one. 

Keith and Shiro were counting on Z to _not_ be alone. The moment he showed himself, they would be ready with backup to move in and execute the largest scale takedown since Marmora a few months prior. 

Keith was out in the van with Shiro, cover still intact...for now. Lotor was conspicuous by his absence. Keith figured he'd sensed a trap of some sort and was letting Z fall into it, keeping himself away until he could take over in the void left behind in Z’s wake. 

To make the ruse more believable, an old Marmora member had been escorted from medium-security prison to act as the information bearer. Prorok was a familiar face to the Galra and would be less suspicious than a cop in disguise. 

Prorok had been given his story and a promise to lighten his sentence, and then sent out to do his thing. Talk, hedge, stall, until Z got there. 

Despite having come up with the whole damn plan himself, Keith had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tried telling himself it was just nerves, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to go wrong.

* * *

The seconds ticked on, turning into minutes and almost an hour, as Ezor walked lazy circles around Prorok, needling him with questions that he skirted around like the pro he was. Zethrid paced menacingly behind Ezor, while Acxa hung back on a chair with her legs up on her bike. 

Keith watched the scene unfold on a screen inside the van. “Is Z coming or not?” he said into the mic that was wired to Prorok’s earpiece, and Prorok echoed the question. 

“Patience, sweetie.” Though even Ezor’s voice was starting to lose some of its calculated sweetness. 

_“A black sedan just pulled up at the side,”_ the staticky voice of one of the beat cops on lookout came over the radio. 

Finally. Some action. Keith waited with bated breath as Shiro responded,

“No one engage until we’re sure it's him.”

“Copy that.”

Keith's eyes were trained on the visual of the sleek black car now transmitting on one of the screens in the van. It was completely still, windows tinted so dark he couldn't tell how many people were inside. His ears were still tuned into what was going on in the warehouse, though he'd stopped watching that screen in favor of staring daggers into the sedan. 

It seemed like an eternity before the backdoor finally opened and a man stepped out. He was tall, more so than Lotor even. His gray suit looked about as expensive as they came. He was balding but the hair he did have was short and silver, the same shade as Lotor’s. Much of his face was hidden by shades and a scarf, but Keith could make out how pale he was. This had to be Z. He walked with confidence—despite the just-noticeable tremor in his limbs—toward the back entrance. And that was when Keith's gut was proven right. 

A loud crash sounded from inside the warehouse, and Z stopped in his tracks. Keith redirected his attention at the screen transmitting from Prorok’s hidden camera. 

Lance. 

The reporter was running toward the front door, dodging various gang members’ attempts to catch him. The only reason he hadn't been shot yet was the shock of sudden chaos. But the second that shock wore off, he'd be dead. 

Keith’s heart was racing as he picked up the radio and gave the order. “Move in! That's a civilian! Get him out alive.”

No sooner had he shouted the words was he out of the van, gun in hand, running in with dozens of other officers. The last thing he saw on the screens was Z getting back in his car and being driven away. 

Keith’s eyes sought out a mop of brown hair amidst the mayhem. A moment later, he spotted it. Lance was crouching behind a stack of boxes, his path to the door blocked by bullets flying through the air as the gunfight unfolded. No one else had found him yet, caught up in battling the gang that was now pummeling police with gunfire. 

Keith made his way over, some emotion swelling in his chest that he decided was anger. “What the _hell_ were you thinking?” he hissed once he'd reached Lance, crouching down next to him. 

Lance jumped at his voice and looked over, ready to bolt despite the fact that he was trapped. His eyes rose to Keith’s face and he paused, looking uncertain, probably deciding whether he was more likely to die if he ran or stayed put. 

“I thought I told you not to try and run,” Keith shouted, unconcerned with trying to keep it down. With the shootout going on, no one was paying attention to them. “I _told_ you to trust me.”

Lance’s expression soured. “And I told you I don't trust people who lock me up.”

Apparently done explaining himself, Lance peeked out toward the exit, squared his shoulders, and, before Keith could grab him, slipped out into the open, his singular focus on the door. 

Keith cursed and followed, grabbing Lance’s wrist and pushing him behind a bike, away from a stray bullet. He peeked out, motioning for Lance to follow him, when he caught Acxa’s eye. He pushed Lance back again as Acxa raised her gun and fired right at them. He pressed himself back against the bike. Lance watched him with wide eyes as he returned fire. 

A yell from Ezor pulled Acxa’s attention away and Keith used to opportunity to grab Lance's hand and run for the exit. Panting, they made it out. Keith forgot to let go until Lance doubled over and pulled his hand away to grasp at the stitch in his side. 

“Why are you helping me?” Lance asked. 

Shiro came up to them and Keith didn't have the chance to answer right away. 

“Acxa saw me,” Keith told Shiro. “My cover’s blown.”

“Cover?” Lance looked from Keith to Shiro’s armored NYPD uniform, and back to Keith. “Oh.”

Shiro nodded to Lance as if to ask ‘Alright?’ before turning back to Keith. “With the way you ran in like that, I'm surprised _more_ people than just Acxa didn't see you.” 

“Z got away.”

Shiro nodded. “But we’ll get most of the gang. And thanks to you, we have enough on Lotor to get a warrant for him.” 

Keith didn't reply. Z was still out there. Shiro clapped him on the shoulder, and walked away to monitor the battle. Lance turned to him, face flushed slightly and eyes nervous. 

“Thanks,” he said. “And sorry my timing was awful.”

Keith shook his head, surprised to find he wasn't mad at this dumbass for compromising the operation. “Go home,” he said. “One of the officers will drop you off. You'll just have to come give a statement at some point after we make the arrests.”

“Yeah sure, anytime.” 

Before things got any more awkward, Keith offered a small smile and walked away to join Shiro.


	5. Epilogue

Keith was at his desk in the precinct. It was after hours and he was the only one there, putting together the final section of his report. Writing out the events forced him to dwell on them, and his mind was still on Z. Operation Black Lion had been a massive failure. It might have been salvageable if not for Acxa seeing Keith, if not for _Keith_ rushing in impulsively when any other cop could have rescued that reporter. He shook his head to clear it, trying to focus on the bright side as Shiro had encouraged him to do. They had a description of Z now, and knowing what he looked like would make him easier to find. 

But, Keith's practical side reminded him, their visual of Z lacked the most important thing: his face. And besides, Acxa had gotten away before she could be arrested; she would have surely tipped off Lotor and Z by now about Keith. The three of them would be impossible to find now. 

He sighed, closing his eyes. He tried to rub away the strain of staring at the white document screen. Without really knowing why, he pulled up the number for the Sentinel on his phone and dialed. 

Feeling stupid, he was about to hang up after the fourth ring, when a tired voice answered, _“New York Sentinel.”_

“Lance?”

_“Yeah? Who is this?”_

“Keith.”

A beat. _“Who?”_

Keith rolled his eyes. “I saved your ass at the warehouse that day?”

_“Oh! Sorry, I never got your name. Thanks again for that. Uh, how's it going?_

Keith chuckled at the rambling and awkward formality. He felt some tension leave his shoulders and wondered briefly if that was why he'd called. “Drowning in paperwork,” he said, answering Lance’s question. “You working late too?”

_“Yup. Working on my article about the whole takedown.”_

Keith hesitated only a moment before responding. “Want the inside scoop?”

_“I'm listening.”_

“We didn't get the top guys, but this was still a pretty major bust. And we got some leads to boot. Tell you about it over a beer?”

There was some rustling and shuffling on the other end, before Lance cleared his throat and said, _“Yeah, that sounds good! Meet you in half an hour at Sal’s?”_

Keith agreed and got off the phone. He was trying to ignore the small smile creeping up on his face and finish his report. Typing the final sentence, he sit save and closed out of the word processor. He got up and stretched, nearly leaving before he remembered his burner phone in his desk drawer. He sat back down and took it out, turning it on to wipe the contents before returning it to the department. Once the screen lit up, he saw a message waiting for him. 

_You still want the top guns?_

Unknown number. He considered ignoring it before changing his mind. 

**who is this**

_someone who can help you newbie_

_Acxa._ Pulse quickening, he tapped in a reply. 

**why would you help me**

Her reply took long enough that Keith had to let out the breath he'd been holding. 

_for narti_

An image of Lotor coldly ripping holes in Narti’s chest floated to the front of Keith's mind. 

**how?**

_L still trusts me and I haven't told him about you. So he could trust you if I get you back in touch  
The rest is up to you. Get in the inner circle and get that bastard_

In the time it took Keith to weigh his options, Acxa double texted him. 

_are you in or do I have to take out L myself?_

**ok  
I'm in**

Cover somehow back to being intact, Keith now had one fewer lead to tell his reporter about over drinks. Corners of his mouth quirking up again, he set off for Sal’s.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first time writing this genre; I hope you found it worth the read!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Tumblr: [writing blog](https://sleapywolfwrites.tumblr.com/) | [VLD sideblog](https://sir-klancelot.tumblr.com/)
> 
> * * *
> 
> This work is part of [VLD Tropes Fest](http://vldtropesfest.tumblr.com) | Comments and Kudos are appreciated | Anonymous creators will be revealed after the masterlist is posted!


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